whitesmoke vapours
slither from a silver exhaust
drifting crystals churn
to a distant wind chime tune
secret fireflies dance
in a maelstrom of moonrain
gardens sparkle in champagne
while rent ghosts roam
dazzled by periwinkles
fractured on bisque pots
cutout whisper motes
float in between
mint and lady bugs
Dragonflies break
the skin of stillness
disrupting inertia.
Tadpoles drop tails,
clamber on rocks
lungs screaming
for the place
where the sky
meets water.
A moving miasma,
mosquitos and midges
flee diaphanous wings.
Green lotus leaves
ride rippled shadows,
frogs whistle to the sun,
a water rat sparkles
feasting on pollywogs
and tales left behind.
This is for Meeting The Bar: A Martian sharpens his knife over at dVerse. Thank you to Samuel Peralta for bringing us today’s Meeting the Bar article.. there are some excellent poems here
I have used a blank verse of couplets for my take on estrangement.
Green supple silicon pricks my soles,
it spreads without a centre.
A bullet with six segmented sticks
flies with veined cellophane wings.
Grey brown particles, carbon, minerals
have the scent of dead blood and bone.
Organic structures reaching for the sun
mirrored reaching for the magma core below.
Spectrums broken into different waveforms
a compass for the lifeforms.
Sticky powder sits in baskets
attracting creatures swimming in air.
Pliable pipe creature with a circle mouth
spits droplets, mix of oxygen and hydrogen.
Stamen’s sticky dust
a gentle dance of love
nodding in the soft wind
This goes with a video tempograph or moving photograph. It is a small stone from my garden I shot today of tiger lilies.
In green half light
a stoic flourishes
soon to bloom
with a coy
pink blush
________
Outside my house
a flower of the sun
in my camera’s lens
_________
Spring wind
petals cling
to my moist cheeks
_________
Sense of place
distinctive features
invented spots
_________
Shadows building
Interiors for dreams
of permanence
_________
Lukewarm sun rays
breaking weakly
through pale grey clouds,
I trudge
in search of spring.
Inky puddles
moiréd with engine oil,
round rain drops
plop winter nonchalance
splitting into damp,
clinging to my skin.
Clammy grass clumps,
feral islands
between tyre trod ruts,
snow drops peek through
back fence cracks,
the scent of jonquils
permeates bone damp air.
A splash
of shiny yellow
by a sour moss licked drain,
childhood magic –
tell signs
of butter lovers
gleaming under chins,
buttercups
bring promises
of warmer days
and shorter nights.
From across the hemispheres
a photo of a well tended garden,
landed in my stream.
A clematis, glorious mauve,
variegated hues
evoking visions
of quinacridone magenta, violet,
mixed with fuchsia, imperial purple
and lapis lazuli
swirling waterborne
edged with graphite
a heart of lemon yellow
with gold lights.
Bold sparks of inspiration fly,
Your buds reveal an orange heart,
Tendril stamens caressing the sky,
Bold sparks of inspiration fly,
Not for you a gentle lovelorn sigh,
Rather your love shall be a work of art,
Bold sparks of inspiration fly,
Your buds reveal an orange heart.
Beneath the ground, your scented rhizome
Prized throughout the human centuries,
Sweet dreams of rainbows and vaulted domes
Awakening old violet memories.
Your ancestors were carved into beads
Used by cloistered folk to count prayers
To absolve a prince’s crass misdeeds
Engaged in important state affairs.
Yet, once of Isis you reminded us,
A Goddess of the lunar seasons;
Of abundance we were desirous,
We’d pray to you for selfish reasons.
Your roots are still prized for rare perfumes;
Many are transfixed by your soft blooms.
Soft, your petals catch the play of light,
Sweet, the scent you send into the day,
Pinned on silk gowns swishing in the night,
Your promise is true love; come what may.
Sometimes you grow wild, on rocks and clay,
Bringing smiles of joy in a barren place,
Lost travellers in mazes of dismay
Uncover the heart, in another’s face.
Beauty’s father plucked you once, for grace,
Yet found he lost more than he could bear;
A Beast claimed Beauty, a tight embrace,
The rose grew sharp thorns to clear the air.
What then, of desiring Beauty’s spell?
Set her free and she will love you well.
This sonnet uses Spenser’s rhyme a b a b b c b c c d c d e e.
Published in Frog Croon, Spetember 2011, Issue 8
Marousia 